Diesel's a rock star!

So, I've got this friend we call Diesel. She's pretty much a rock star. I met her in an alley on a rainy St. Patrick's afternoon maybe 3 years ago. She had just moved up here from Atlanta and was planning on flying under the radar in our little running club.

Didn't happen.

I honestly don't remember how I met her. If it was anything like my usual M.O., after a few weeks she proved herself to be vibrant and popular and hilarious and willing to be the center of attention so I glommed in to her so I could follow around in her wake and people would learn to love me by proxy.

That did happen.

I've forgotten (or blocked the memories of) most of our adventures. For two and a half years, she and Tank and I (among others) forged memories and laughs and pictures and chaos.

  • 'On the top deck'
  • 'Awwwww yeah'
  • Punchcards
  • Beer hats
  • 'On your knees, b!tch!!!'
  • Candles
  • JRT!
  • Attack of the killer fog
  • Duelling hangovers by the pool on the ski trip
  • Jager-bombs
  • Rusty's pocket-less jeans
  • Puppet 'Father Abraham'
  • 'Stick a Pie in your Thong'
  • the 'GeorgiaGeorgiaGeorgia' dance
  • co-coining the phrase knit'n'NASCAR
  • Maxing out Butch on camping trips
  • Shot glass rave
Over the last three years she became one of my bestest buds. Through no scheme or design of her own (and quite a bit on the head of a certain ratbastard, Diesel ended up moving back to Atlanta. She's got a kick-ass job, will be able to afford a better place to live than up here in crazy-ass expensive DC, but there will probably be a little more time between additions to the aforementioned list.

Historically, I'm TERRIBLE about staying in touch with people who abandon me. Somebody kick my ass if I do that with Diesel.

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